Chapter 22
Bolton
The air smells like trouble.
Two days. Two days until the full moon, two days until Maya marks me and the pack finally, formally, recognizes her.
And every muscle in my body is coiled tight, not with anticipation, but with a primal sense of unease.
I’m standing at the edge of the perimeter, running through patrol rotations with Dax, trying to focus on the lines on the map, but my senses are screaming.
It’s not just the rogues, though their shadow looms larger with every passing hour. It’s a deeper hum, a discord in the pack. Like a low-grade fever that won’t break.
“Patrols are doubled north and west,” Dax reports, his voice low. “South and east are thin. Dad’s convinced they’ll hit the old logging trails.”
I trace a finger along the map. “They always hit the old logging trails. That’s why the old logging trails are a trap.”
Dax grunts. “He’s still trying to figure out which direction they’re coming from. There’s been too many false alarms, too many whispers that lead nowhere.”
“Because it’s not just rogues, is it?” I ask, looking up. My gaze drifts toward the main den, where Maya is probably. Her scent, a sharp, clean clarity that always cuts through the forest smells, is a grounding point in the rising tension.
Dax sighs. “No. It’s Cassie. She’s been quiet, too quiet. She’s up to something. I can feel it.”
I feel it too. It’s like the air thins whenever she’s near, leaving a metallic taste on my tongue. She’s not just a rival anymore; she’s a festering wound, and she’s determined to infect the entire pack.
“She’s trying to make Maya look bad,” I say, the words a low growl. “To undermine her. To make them doubt her even after the challenge.”
“She’s looking for a crisis,” Dax confirms. “A moment where Maya falters, where the pack can point and say, ‘See? She’s not one of us. She’s not fit to lead.’”
My jaw tightens. “She won’t falter.”
“I know,” Dax says, but his eyes are shadowed. “But what if Cassie creates the crisis herself?”
A cold knot forms in my stomach. The thought had crossed my mind more than once. Cassie’s ruthlessness knew no bounds. She wouldn’t hesitate to put the pack at risk if it meant getting what she wanted.
“I’m going to check the south border,” I say, already turning. “And then I’m going to find Maya.”
Dax nods. “Be careful. The woods are restless.”
I don’t need the warning. My wolf is already on high alert, every fiber of my being screaming that something is coming.
I push through the trees, letting my wolf instincts take over, scenting the air, listening for anything out of place. The forest is too quiet, the animal sounds muted, like they’re holding their breath.
Then, a sudden, sharp yelp. A young wolf. Too close to the main den.
My heart slams against my ribs. “Dax!” I shout, already shifting, the familiar tear and stretch of bone and muscle a welcome release.
I hit the ground on all fours, black fur rippling, eyes glowing. Dax is right behind me, a blur of grey. We race through the trees, following the scent of fear and the faint, acrid smell of rogue.
The scene that greets us is chaos. A group of younger wolves, clearly on patrol, are cornered near the stream that feeds into the main den. Three rogues, lean and vicious, circle them, their eyes glinting with malice. They’re not just harassing; they’re trying to draw blood.
And then I see her.
Maya.
She’s not panicking. She’s a whirlwind of protective motion.
She moves with a savage grace I’ve only glimpsed before, her hybrid nature shining through.
She’s faster than the rogues, slipping between their attacks, not just defending, but shielding.
One rogue lunges, and she ducks, using its momentum to send it sprawling into the stream.
Another tries to flank her, and she’s already there, a low growl rumbling in her chest, a flash of silver on her arm.
She’s not just fighting. She’s protecting.
“Fall back!” she shouts, her voice clear and strong, cutting through the snarls and growls. “Stay behind me! To the ridge!”
They obey instantly, a testament to her innate protective instinct. Even in the midst of chaos, they trust her.
Dax and I plunge into the fray, flanking the rogues. My wolf snarls, a deep, guttural sound that makes the rogues hesitate. We’re outnumbered, but Maya’s quick thinking has bought us time, has given us an advantage.
The fight is brutal and fast. We work as a unit, a seamless dance of teeth and claws and raw power.
Maya’s movements are fluid, almost instinctive.
She’s still human, but her wolf is so close to the surface it’s like a second skin.
She uses her human quickness, her sharp mind, to outmaneuver them, while her wolf provides the primal ferocity.
Within minutes, two rogues are driven off, limping back into the trees. The third, a hulking male with a scarred muzzle, tries to take on Maya head-on. She meets him with a defiant roar, her eyes blazing. She’s not just defending; she’s attacking.
I move to intercept, but she’s already there. She feints right, then slams her elbow into his jaw, a clean, precise strike that sends him staggering. Before he can recover, she’s on him, a blur of motion, her hands wrapping around his throat.
“Who sent you?” she snarls, her voice low and dangerous, a predatory edge I’ve never heard before.
The rogue partially shifts, but she holds him, her grip surprisingly strong. His eyes widen in fear.
Then, he chokes out a name. “Cassie.”
My blood runs cold. I knew it. But to hear it confirmation, to see Maya’s face tighten, the rage building in her eyes…
She releases him, shoving him away with a disgusted snarl. “Get out. And tell Cassie her little game is over.”
The rogue scrambles away, disappearing into the trees.
Maya stands there, chest heaving, her eyes still blazing. The younger wolves stare at her in awe, their fear replaced by a newfound respect.
I shift back, my human form feeling too vulnerable, too small after the power of the wolf. Dax shifts beside me, his expression grim.
“You okay?” I ask Maya, my voice rough.
She nods, still breathing heavily. “I’m fine.” She looks at the retreating rogues, then back at us. “He said Cassie sent them.”
“I heard,” I say. My wolf is roaring, demanding blood for this betrayal.
“She wanted to make me look weak,” Maya says, her voice laced with a cold fury. “To prove I wasn’t fit to be Luna.”
Dax shakes his head. “She just proved the opposite. You led them. You protected them. You fought like a true Alpha.”
Maya turns to me, her eyes still burning. “We have to tell your father. We have to tell the council.”
My wolf demands it. Justice. Retribution. Cassie’s betrayal cannot go unpunished.
But then, I look at Maya. Her face is smudged with dirt, her hair a mess, but she stands tall, radiating a strength that has nothing to do with brute force. She’s not just my mate; she’s a leader. And in this moment, a calmness settles over me, overriding the primal rage.
“No,” I say, surprising even myself.
Maya blinks. “No? Bolton, she orchestrated an attack on the pack. She used rogues!”
“I know,” I say, stepping closer, putting my hands on her shoulders. “And she failed. Miserably. You just proved yourself. You just won the pack’s respect in a way no formal challenge ever could.”
I look at the younger wolves, their eyes still wide with awe and admiration. They saw Maya. They saw her strength, her courage, her leadership. They saw their future Luna.
“If we expose Cassie now, it will divide the pack,” I explain, my voice low and steady. “It will create a rift just days before the ceremony. We need them united. We need them strong. Especially with the rogues getting bolder.”
Maya looks at me, then at the younger wolves, then back at the trees where the rogues disappeared. Her jaw tightens, but I see the wheels turning in her mind. She’s weighing the consequences, not just for herself, but for the pack.
“So we just… let her get away with it?” she asks, her voice laced with disbelief.
“For now,” I say. “But she doesn’t get away with it. She lost. She showed her true colors. And you, Maya… you showed yours. The pack saw. They won’t forget.”
I look into her eyes, seeing the conflict there, but also the understanding. She’s not just a fighter; she’s a strategist. She understands the politics of the pack, the delicate balance of power.
“We handle it quietly,” Maya says, her voice firm. “But she needs to know we know. And she needs to know there will be consequences.”
A surge of pride washes over me. She’s not just my equal; she’s my partner. She’s already thinking like a Luna, putting the pack’s needs above her own desire for revenge.
I pull her into a tight embrace, burying my face in her hair. My wolf purrs, a deep, rumbling sound of contentment. The fear, the protective instincts that had gnawed at me, they recede, replaced by a quiet confidence.
She doesn’t need me to protect her. Not anymore.
She needs me to stand beside her.
“We’ll be ready,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”
She nods, pulling back slightly, her eyes meeting mine, shining with a newfound resolve. “Yeah,” she says, a fierce, determined glint in her eyes. “We will.”
The sun dips lower, painting the sky in fiery hues. The forest begins to settle, a quiet hum replacing the earlier chaos. The younger wolves, still shaken but now invigorated, start to patrol the perimeter, their steps more confident, their eyes sharper.
Maya, my Luna, my partner, stands beside me, her presence a beacon of strength and hope. And I know, with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, that whatever comes, we will face it together.